Chance Meetings
by Feriku
Summary: Cybil, Harry, and Heather reunite after years, while Vincent and James get drunk. Just a silly little story for your amusement.


_Happy Halloween, friends! My "October Challenge": Write a Silent Hill fanfiction featuring Cybil, Harry, Heather, Vincent, and James, in the Friendship genre. Having a friend choose the characters and genre randomly certainly made it more of a challenge…but here you are._

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Chance Meetings

_"Alessa."_

_ "We have to find Alessa."_

_ "We need God."_

_ "Paradise must come soon."_

_ "She will birth God."_

_ "We need to find her."_

It had gone on for the entire morning, before Vincent was finally able to get away from Claudia and her raving. As soon as he left, he had run into one of Archbolt's lackeys, who seemed intent on recruiting him to help their sect gain an edge over Claudia's.

As if he didn't have enough problems.

Getting rid of him took far too long, but finally the man had shuffled off to bother somebody else. Once outside, Vincent had promptly tripped and fallen into a grave being dug by three members of the Valtiel sect for no discernable reason.

_Bloody executioners!_

He couldn't deny that he had been glad to get away from the town for a while. The Order was falling to pieces. Claudia was losing her mind, the Valtiel sect had been in a shambles ever since their leaders died, that reporter kept breathing down everyone's necks, and the various factions couldn't work together to save their lives. Someone with enough determination might be able to pull them together and actually accomplish something, but that person was _not_ going to be him.

He knew it wouldn't be too long before someone did something drastic. In fact, Claudia was already actively making plans to find Alessa. That was why he was here, far enough from Silent Hill that he shouldn't bump into anyone he knew. There was only one thing he could do at a time like this.

He was going to get stone drunk.

Vincent finally found the bar, and hurried inside to get his mind off of the Order.

xXx

She hadn't been sure what she was going to buy when she stepped into the small shop, but as soon as she saw the beautifully worked set of pens, she knew. Getting a gift for Dad would be a perfect thing to do on this trip, and that was just the sort of thing he'd like. Even if he no longer tried to publish his work, not wanting to draw any sort of attention to himself, he still loved to write.

Heather—even though it wasn't her real name, she had grown accustomed to thinking of herself by it, for safety reasons—picked up the box and looked at it. Yes, he'd love them. It brought a small smile to her face to think that she'd be able to give him something, after how nervous he'd been about this trip.

"Excuse me…"

She turned, startled but not alarmed. The man standing there awkwardly did not look anything like a dangerous cultist. He was dressed casually, with a green jacket over his clothes, and he had short blond hair.

"Can you help me? What sort of thing should I buy for a girl?"

Heather raised her eyebrows, wondering if this man was randomly asking her for advice on what to buy his girlfriend. It must have shown on her face, because he cleared his throat and looked embarrassed.

"A little girl," he added.

"Your daughter?"

"No. Yes! I'm going to be adopting her," he finally clarified. He glanced over at the desk, where the only employee in the store was busy with a customer.

He looked rather uncomfortable, so she took pity on him. "What kinds of things does she like?"

"I think she likes cats and teddy bears…and annoying me," he added under his breath.

"Why don't you buy her a teddy bear, then?" she suggested.

His expression brightened. "Would she like that?"

"I don't know her," Heather reminded him. "From what you've said, though, it's probably likely."

"Okay. Uh, thanks!" he called, as he headed towards a shelf of stuffed animals.

"Sure," she replied, shaking her head as she got into line with the gift.

Once she had purchased it, she left the store and checked her watch. It was just after one, giving her almost an hour's worth of time before she would meet Harry in the coffee shop down the street.

She looked at the signs she could see, searching for names she had recognized from the flyer she had gotten. Finding another store that had advertised a special sale this week, she smiled and hurried towards it.

xXx

James waited until the girl had left the store before getting in line. He was sure she thought he was a complete idiot, and he didn't want to do anything that might reinforce that opinion. On the other hand, he sometimes had to wonder if it was the truth.

He glanced at the stuffed teddy bear as he set it on the counter. This was going to be a complete disaster, wasn't it?

It had seemed so simple when he was leaving Silent Hill. He was finally free of his demons, and he was even able to think of Mary without pain—without too _much_ pain, he amended his thoughts, as a tremor ran through him. He still missed her. He didn't think that would ever go away. If only she were here now…

Adopting Laura had stood out in his mind as the perfect thing to do. Mary had wanted to adopt her, they were already linked through their experiences, and they both were grieving for Mary. He hoped they might each fill some of that empty space in the other's life.

He paid for the bear and left the store with unhappier thoughts. The idea just wasn't that clear anymore. The closer the adoption came to being finalized, the more nervous he felt. He liked Laura, he honestly did, even though she had done some pretty annoying things when they were in Silent Hill. He just didn't know how to interact with her over an extended period of time. She seemed to like him well enough, at least, but he feared that she secretly hated him. He had killed Mary, after all, and she could be acting the way she was just because she wanted a family.

That was depressing all around. He couldn't decide which was worse—that he might be adopting a child who hated him, or that she might be so lonely that she'd accept his company despite hating him.

Rationally, he knew he was only being paranoid. Still, he wanted them to be a happy family, and he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. He had never been a father before, and he didn't even have any siblings.

As he walked, he looked down at the bag in his hand and hoped that the gift would make Laura happy. Maybe it would bridge the gap between them. He worried, though, that nothing ever would. He could never replace Mary for her.

He started to pass the bar, and then he stopped. If anyone from the adoption services saw him, it would be incredibly damaging…but on the other hand, he really needed a drink. Between what was facing him in the future, and what he had just come from in Silent Hill… He pushed open the door and hoped he could stave off both stress and nightmares.

The bar was incredibly crowded. James bought a drink and then looked around for a place to sit. There were people everywhere, and he didn't know any of them. Many of them seemed to be in groups already, and he was reluctant to join a crowd of strangers. There were a few people sitting alone, but most of them looked like it was safer for everyone that way.

Finally, he focused in on one man sitting at a table alone. He was wearing a white shirt with a brown vest, and some of his brown hair was falling in front of his glasses. He didn't look particularly reputable, but he didn't look dangerous, either.

James sighed and made his way to that table. "May I sit here?"

The man glanced up from his drink and shrugged.

He took that for a yes, and sat down.

xXx

Harry sat in the coffee shop and tried not to attract any attention to himself. He knew he was early, but he couldn't help it. He worried about Cheryl—no, he had to think of her as Heather, he reminded himself—a lot. That cult was still after them. Whatever connection she had to that other girl, Alessa, they wanted her back.

He didn't want that, Heather didn't want that, and he would bet that Alessa wouldn't have wanted it, either. She had given the baby to him, after all. After what Dahlia had done to her, he suspected she wouldn't want the cultists anywhere near…whatever Heather was.

That had worried him a lot, in the beginning. He had taken the baby home, not knowing if she was even truly human, knowing only that she was something unnatural and not someone who could replace the daughter he had lost. Sometimes, nightmares had woken him and caused him to go look at her, reassuring himself with how much she looked like a normal child.

It was all in the past, now. Despite his worries, he cared too much to abandon her. She hadn't been _his_ Cheryl, but she was still a little girl who needed a family. And as she grew up, it became easier and easier to think of her as his daughter. By the time she was five, and he killed the cultist trying to kidnap her, none of those uncertainties mattered anymore. She _was_ his Cheryl, his daughter, and anyone who wanted to hurt her would have to deal with him first.

He sighed and wondered if they were still trying to find her. With any luck, they never would.

"Harry?"

Startled, he looked. Who here would be calling him by name? For a moment he didn't think he recognized the young woman standing by his booth, but then he took a closer look at the face framed by that short blonde hair.

"Cybil?" he asked in amazement.

"It really is you!" She sounded shocked. "When you disappeared from Portland, I never thought I'd see you again."

"I'm sorry about that." He waved for her to sit down across from him, and she did so. It was good to see her. He too had thought they'd never meet up again. "We had to leave quickly, and I was afraid you'd be in danger if I tried to contact you."

"Danger?" From the look on her face, she knew what sort of danger he meant. After all, she had been a cop before they both went into hiding after the events of Silent Hill. Normal threats she could have handled easily. "Harry, what happened?"

He looked down at the table and finally said quietly, "The cult found us. Dahlia's people. Someone came for Cheryl. He tried to take her from me."

"They found his body," she interjected. "You're the one who shot him, then?"

Harry nodded. "I had to." He had felt terrible at first, knowing that he had killed another human being. Eventually, though, he had realized that he would do it again, if it was the only way to keep his daughter safe.

"Is that why you left?" she asked. "Because you didn't know how to explain what had happened to the police?"

"I didn't even think about that," he admitted. "I just knew we had to disappear." He didn't want to say too much about how they had hidden themselves. He trusted Cybil, but they were in a public place.

"You think they're still looking for you."

"Yes."

"Why, though?" She leaned closer. "What is your daughter to them, that they would want her so badly?"

"I'm not sure." He had suspicions, of course. "I think they think, because of her origins, that she belongs with them." The cultist had been raving like a crazy person, and it had sounded almost as though he thought she _was_ Alessa.

That was crazy, of course. Wasn't it?

Cybil reached out to pat his hand. "Harry, I'll always be here to help you."

She wouldn't be, of course. It would be too dangerous to involve another person in this situation. The cult had no interest in her. It wouldn't be right for him to take away her safety.

He didn't say that to her, though. He only smiled and caught her hand in his own, because it was so nice to have someone genuinely concerned and willing to help.

xXx

Vincent waved his glass around emphatically. "I belong to a religion where…everyone's insane. 'Cept me." He took another drink and continued. "I'm sane. Hundred percent. _To'ally_ sane."

"Course," his new friend agreed, nodding.

It was nice to have met someone who would listen. He leaned towards him. "D'you know how many people keep trying to summon God?"

"God?" The other man finished his drink and hailed the bartender. As his glass was filled, he frowned. "You can summon God?"

"Not me!" Vincent protested. Now even complete strangers were confusing him with the crazy fanatics.

"No, not you." He grinned and burst into laughter. Finally, he composed himself enough to say, "_God._"

Vincent wasn't sure why he thought God would be summoning God, but he decided it wasn't worth arguing over. "Yeah," he agreed amiably. He finished his drink and ordered another one. "How many? How many…how many Gods summon God?"

When he put it that way, it actually sounded poetic. He'd have to remember to write it down later.

James frowned at nothing and took another drink. Finally, he gave a lopsided smile and proclaimed, "Thirty-two."

Considering Vincent didn't know the answer, that one sounded just fine. "Exactly!" he cried, slamming his hand on the table. "Thirty-two!" He stared at the table for a while, trying to remember how they had even gotten onto the topic.

The other man began chuckling to himself. "Gods summoning God…"

He drank some more and finally remembered. "It'll ruin everything!" He hit the table again for added emphasis. "She's crazy…crazy…she wants the girl back now."

"Girl," his new friend repeated, staring at him blankly. He drained his glass. "Tha's my problem. I'm adopting one. A girl."

"That could be…" Vincent frowned and tried to think of the right word. "Dangerous."

"Dangerous?"

"Dangerous. The Wish House…" He let the sentence hang and ordered another drink. It was nice to know he wasn't the only one with troubles.

"Wish House?"

"Orphanage." He lifted his hand and pointed in the direction he hoped it was in. "In Silent Hill."

"Silent Hill?" His friend almost immediately ordered a drink. "Bad…bad place… There's…things there. Things."

"Things." Vincent laughed. "There's…things everywhere." He lifted his glass. "One thing." He rapped the table. "Two thing."

"Red thing, blue thing!"

He glanced around. He didn't see any of those, actually, but what was the point in arguing? "Yeah! Things!"

His friend narrowed his eyes. "Then…maybe thisisis…" He frowned and tried again. "Thiss_is_is…" He shrugged and gave up. "Silent Hill!"

Vincent couldn't remember the last time he'd had this much fun. At the moment, he couldn't remember what he had done yesterday, either, but that wasn't the point. "Heeey, bartender!" he shouted. "Are we in Silent Hill?"

"Heh, Silent Hill. Where'sa monsters?"

The bartender gave them both a flat look. "No."

"Then…I'd like…another drink!"

As they waited for the drinks, his friend said slowly and carefully, "We should…stop. I've heard that…if you drink…you might get drunk!"

Vincent worked his way through that, considered how he was currently feeling—quite healthy and wonderful—and held up his hands to stop that thought before it could do any damage. "I…" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "I don't think that's true." He grinned.

It was enough to convince the other man. He lifted his new drink. "_Prosit_!"

Vincent wasn't German, but he was pretty sure that didn't matter. It was a nice-sounding word, too. "_Prosit_!"

xXx

"I stopped a robbery the other week," Cybil said.

"At the store where you work?" Harry asked.

She nodded. When they left Silent Hill, they both had gone into hiding. Although she suspected no one from the cult would even remember her involvement, she still tried her best to do nothing that would connect her with her past. She wasn't using a false name, but she didn't let anyone know that she once had been a police officer from Brahms, either.

It was hard to get used to at first, but she had adjusted. Every now and then, she saw someone around who just didn't seem quite right. They asked too many questions, or they acted a little strangely, and she wondered if they were cultists trying to pick up the trail of Harry Mason. That was enough to encourage her lie low. Some things, though, couldn't be hidden entirely, such as her reaction when a couple of lowlife teens tried to hold up the store.

"They weren't expecting the clerk to have combat training," she said with a laugh.

He smiled. "Do you miss being a cop?"

"Yeah," she admitted. "I've thought about going back to it, many times, but…I guess I'm just as paranoid as you, sometimes."

"I don't think it's paranoia."

"No?"

"If the cult ever connects you to us, they might come after you."

They'd use her against him. She had witnessed similar things during her years on the police force. Hearing that Harry had already thought of that only supported the suspicion she had already begun to have—they weren't going to be in contact after this day. No matter what he said, he was going to cut all ties with her again.

She couldn't blame him. He was concerned about his daughter. She remembered the early days, when he was afraid of the baby girl he had brought out of Silent Hill. It was touching to see how much his attitude had changed towards her. He loved her now, and he wanted to protect her.

Cybil knew he wanted to protect her, too. Whether he was trying to protect her, Cheryl, or both of them, it came down to the same thing in the end. And she wouldn't do anything that would endanger her old friend and his daughter, no matter how sad it made her to break contact with him. She hadn't even expected to see him here. She had just come for some shopping and a change of scenery. It had been such a shock to see Harry, after all these years.

She had often wondered what would happened if she bumped into him again. There were many things she had imagined she might do or say. Now, however, she remembered too few of them, and there was too little time for them all.

"Do you still write?" she asked.

He smiled and glanced down. "Yeah. I don't publish anymore, of course, but I still write for entertainment. Heather likes my stories."

_Heather?_ she wondered, but she didn't ask.

"Tell me about your stories," she encouraged him.

After this, they'd probably go their separate ways. So she'd make the most of this meeting, just in case it was the last time she ever saw him.

xXx

James was feeling a lot better about everything. Having a confidant helped. His new friend had now listened to him talk about Mary, Silent Hill, Maria, Pyramid Head, Eddie, Angela, his memories, Laura, his nightmares, the adoption, his worries, and everything else he could think of.

He'd listened patiently through it all, offering advice from time to time. Admittedly, some of that advice was rather odd, but it was the thought that counted. He'd had a lot of questions about the monster James called Pyramid Head, and kept comparing him to some executioners he apparently knew. He'd talked about his own problems, too, most of which revolved around religion and a woman named Claudia.

James was happy to listen. He was glad to have found someone whose troubles seemed as odd as his.

"By the way," his new friend said, holding up a hand. "I don't even know your name yet."

That struck him as being very funny, that they were such good friends and didn't actually know each other's names yet. He grinned, and they both laughed about it for a while.

Finally, he answered, "James." He thought about it for a moment, because he wasn't sure he could manage to say his last name. He took a deep breath and said carefully, "Sun-der-land."

"Tha's all you?"

"Huh?"

"James Sun Der Land." His friend raised his hand, and after some confused fiddling, managed to hold up four fingers. "S'enough for a coupla people."

James grinned. "No." He braced himself and tried. "_Sunnerland,_" he slurred.

"Vincent. Y'know…between us, we've got enough names."

"Enough?"

"Enough."

"For what?"

"For two or three people."

"Tha's good, since we're two people."

Vincent nodded. "Can you imagine," he began, holding out his arms to emphasize the enormity of what he was saying, "if we didn't have enough names for ourselves?"

In light of that, James ordered another drink.

xXx

With Dad's gift carefully hidden at the bottom of her other bags, Heather made her way to the coffee shop. She glanced around, and then she saw him. He was sitting at a booth with a blonde woman who looked faintly familiar.

Curious, she hurried over. "Hey Dad," she greeted.

He turned towards her quickly. "Heather, do you remember Cybil?"

The woman's eyebrows had risen slightly at the sound of the name Heather, and she knew then who she was. They had known her in Portland, when she was a little girl. She had still been Cheryl then.

_Cybil…_ She remembered the name, now. Dad talked about her often enough, wondering how Cybil Bennett was doing, hoping she was all right, and worrying that the cult might remember her and do something terrible.

"I remember you," she said with a smile. "I've probably changed a lot."

"You have…Heather," Cybil finally finished. "It's good to see you again."

"Thanks."

"Well…" She was startled by his tone. Harry rarely sounded that unhappy. "We'll have to be leaving soon."

"Yeah, I guess you will."

Harry and Cybil looked at each other. There was something very sad in the gaze passing between them.

"What's wrong?" Heather asked.

"Nothing."

She raised her eyebrows. "Dad, I know you better than that."

He sighed. "We'll talk about it later."

"It was good talking to you, Harry," Cybil said.

"Yeah, you too. I hope everything goes well for you."

"Thanks. Keep safe, okay?"

"Okay."

"It was nice seeing you again, Heather."

"You too," she replied, surprised to realize that she was feeling sad, too. Something about this conversation felt too final. She had thought seeing Cybil there meant they were going to all be together again. Now, she wasn't so sure.

The three of them left the coffee shop together, and then they stood outside for some time. No one seemed to want to say anything, and Heather shifted uncomfortably.

"No matter what happens," Cybil finally said, "I'll always be thinking of you two."

"I'll never forget you, Cybil," Harry said, clearing his throat. "You've been a good friend."

"Thanks, Harry."

They stood there for a while longer, and then finally, they began to walk. Cybil Bennett went one way and the Masons went the other way, as they parted once again.

xXx

Vincent liked James, even if he couldn't be sure how many last names he had. He didn't seem to think he was crazy, for one thing. For another thing, he was just good company. He'd loved the idea of singing an old drinking song.

"An' th'apples are ripe in th'spring!" he sang loudly.

"An' th'birds in th'sky'll sing!" James shouted.

"An' th'bells ring!" He had run out of lines long ago, but he thought they were doing an impressive job for people who no longer knew what the song was even supposed to be.

"They ring wi' a will!"

"Th'bells won't be still!"

"Don't go to Silent Hill!"

"Until you've written a will!" Vincent finished, making a mental note to write this one down later, too. It was quite a catchy little song, and they had come up with it on the spot. He wondered if all genius happened this spontaneously.

James looked up at the clock. "Better be going soon," he mumbled.

Vincent looked up at well, blinking until it came into focus. It remained blurry, so he shrugged and gave up. "Le's go, then," he agreed companionably.

The floor wasn't as even as it had been when he'd come into the bar, but after several attempts, he made it to his feet. He held out his arm to help James up, but it seemed that James pulled him down, instead. It took a few good tries, but they finally both made it to their feet.

Supporting each other, they staggered towards the door. Outside, the sunlight was far too bright, but nothing could be done about it.

"You're a good guy, James," he said, waving his free hand around. "Don't worry 'bout it. Laur'll love you."

"Thanks," he said, grinning. "An' you, you be carefully wi' that Claudia."

"Course."

James waved in a vague direction. "Gotta find my car…"

"Yeah."

They spent a few more minutes rambling about matters of varying importance, and then they finished their good-byes. As Vincent swayed and stumbled down the sidewalk, he noticed another group of people reluctantly parting near the city's coffee shop. Maybe he'd go there next time.

He wondered how long he'd make it back home before Claudia would be raving about her plans again. As he'd told James numerous times, it would only be trouble if she tried to summon God.

He didn't really think anything would come of it, though. With any luck, Alessa was far, far away.


End file.
